I am extremely concerned about L’Artiste. Last week he was very frustrated and I thought I would help him out by making him the star of my short film. Originally he was quite chuffed, but when the feedback came in, he changed his mind. Even though we had some good responses and Socialite was so excited and wanted to interview him, it didn’t help. Strangely enough, negativity always seems to be remembered longer than positive remarks, doesn’t it? Sure enough, after cooling down for a while L’Artiste became convinced the film had ruined his reputation. He choose to have some time out and has withdrawn from the Dede community for the time being. I am well aware of how much he needs his solitude every now and then. So I left him to his own devices sitting high up on a ladder yesterday, while I worked with a few other Dedes on a pilot for a new film. Much to my surprise, when I came into the studio this morning he was gone. Only his robe was lying around where he was sitting yesterday and next to it a bottle of high percentage schnaps. Can you understand my worries?

When you know the whole picture, I have to confess, I have sugar coated our situation just a tad. I am actually not working in a studio. I am trying to keep up appearances here and studio sounds flash and established. In reality, I am working in a building site. The site currently has no roof and is shrink wrapped. This protects the building from the elements and gives me the perfect diffused lighting for photography. As it is the Easter holidays there are no builders around. If you have ever lived on a building site you know how awkward it is. As you can imagine the creativity suffers a little. I’ll try to make the best of it :)

But if L’Artiste really has taken to the bottle and wanted to go skinny dipping in a puddle outside the house, as his discarded clothes suggest, he might have come to grief. I had better go searching for him.

Socialite wanted to interview L’Artiste about the film and looked everywhere for him. Finally, she found him sitting high up on a ladder in the studio contemplating. Socialite, even though she tries to climb the social ladder, is afraid of heights so she had to shout at him. That meant everyone became privy to their conversation.

It turns out that L’Artiste doesn’t want to talk about the film unless our viewers have particular questions. Socialite tried her best to convince him of the film’s artistic merit, but he couldn’t see it and he stubbornly denied her the interview. Instead, it became clear that I can add him to the list of Dedes who un-friended me. He is annoyed because he believed we were just fooling around and it was only a trial for a bigger film we wanted to do. He thought we were trying things out to see if it was feasible. On the day of the shooting he was very frustrated and he acted ridiculously, exaggerating everything. He was very surprised when he realised I had uploaded the film to Youtube and the blog without further consultation. He would have had a thing or two to say about the storyline and he certainly would have had a different ending. He is thoroughly annoyed because now our wider audience thinks he is a shallow chap. He is adamant this isn’t a fair depiction of him at all.

“Get over it!” Socialite ended the conversation “Nowadays you always have to be on your guard.”

L’Artiste still moped: “Honestly, it never occurred to me that friends could do such things to each other! She really has to consider our feelings a bit more.”

It is really sad. When I was younger I never realised how many people cared about me. This token was given to me by someone who was under the impression I was constantly broke. (And he was certainly right). The little plastic thing would have given me a feed in the student canteen at Munich University once and it had a home in my wallet for a very, very long time. Obviously I wasn’t broke enough to use it, or more likely, I wasn’t brave enough to go to the student canteen as I wasn’t enrolled at Munich. I was too afraid I might get caught out.

Socialite is a puppet I don’t see very often. I suspect I am much too common for her. She likes to hobnob with the rich and powerful. There are not many of them in my circle of friends. Naturally, I was very surprised when Socialite came and told me about this wonderful short film she had seen called “Life of an artist.” She immediately launched into dissecting the story line: “It’s fantastic how the director captured the essence of torment. You see the artist’s rapid decline from self-confidence to a picture of misery. You must see this film”

“I know the film” I said.

“It’s sad how artists are reliant on viewers opinion, isn’t it?” she continued. “People just don’t understand good art anymore! They are ignorant folks. Did you see the two characters that just walked past the picture? What are they doing in an exhibition for goodness sake? They obviously have no idea how much pain goes into creating unique artworks!

“I don’t know. To me it looks very much like instant-gratification-artist. A one shot wonder! He had one good inspirational idea and he immediately took the result to the market in the hope of selling and making money. Artists need a bit more stamina, don’t you think?” I responded. “He can’t expect people to go all gooey over everything he hangs on the wall just because he wears a tunic like Paul Klee. Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”

“I totally disagree. He did a lot of soul-searching before he had his inspiration. That’s very obvious in the sequence where he walks around the room. No, no, his inspiration did not come out of nowhere! I clearly see it was the audience that ground him down!”

“What I don’t understand, the two art-lovers at the end commended him for his work. But this wasn’t good enough for him. He is obviously slanted towards the commercial. Honestly, what kind of reaction is that… pulling the work off the wall and tearing it up only because they don’t want to buy it! Isn’t it more important that they liked it?”

“Tssst” Socialite threw her head over her shoulder. Obviously she was piqued. “What do you know about the delicate soul of an artist? I should have known one can’t discuss films with you!”

Mhm, could I be so wrong? What do you see in the film? In case you haven’t seen it, here is the link Life of an Artist

“I should do an interview with L’Artiste!” Socialite said. “He is the only one who can shed light on this matter. Do you have any questions I should ask him?”

I don’t know what it is, except that maybe because it’s the end of summer, but the Dedes are in total disarray…

Remember when Devil threw a wobbly last week? Foxy Lady was obviously a bit aggressive towards him. She is a staunch feminist and can’t stand it when the other gender gets too cocky.

Bad Conscience was sidling around all weekend offering his services to both squabblers. That’s what he does… He goes around and looks for a disagreement of some sort somewhere. He offers his help and moves in with whoever lets him in. Once he has made himself comfortable in a corner of your house, preferably the darkest one, he forgets his promise to help and just sits there and expects to be fed. He has lived with me for a while and, gee, it is difficult to move him on. You have to make a big effort to virtually throw him out. He is one of those who doesn’t know when he has outstayed his welcome. He never leaves of his own accord. Sorry, I am digressing. You certainly know the chap anyway.

Neither Devil nor Foxy Lady have taken Bad Conscience in yet. And I actually wanted to talk to them to see if I can help. But then L’Artiste popped in unexpectedly on Saturday morning. He was really, and I mean really, depressed! We had breakfast together and he moaned and groaned. In the end I said: “To be honest, we only have two options. Either we hang around and we are all depressed for the rest of the weekend or we do some new work. What’s it going to be?”

You know what he opted for. The result is in the previous post. It was an impromptu. L’Artiste just wanted to tell his story. In the end he admitted in secret (so please keep mum about it) that it felt so refreshingly good to have a hearty cry. I picked up his tunic and will keep it for him until he is ready to put it on again.

This morning when it was still dawn, Devil came to see me. “I have had enough” he started, without beating about the bush. “I can’t do my job when the girls are always interfering. I am resigning!”

“Start again” I said. I wasn’t sure if I had heard him correctly. It was simply too much for me that early in the morning.

“If I hadn’t held my hand up in the first place we would still be flat newspapers, wouldn’t we! Nobody appreciates the work I have put into this whole thing” he continued, ignoring my words.

“When I am gone they will go nowhere fast. That I am sure of. I ask you, who is holding everything together, eh? Who is doing all the work? Didn’t I run the Super Dede Competition before Christmas? Am I not always talking with you to move us forward? Did I not volunteer for the “Embrace Diversity” series first? They are such an ungrateful lot. I am resigning! They will realise very quickly what they’ve lost!”

“Just…”

“You know, I only have to spread the word that I am available. People would love to have me work for them. Most people could do with a bit more devil in them, wouldn’t you think? They just have to let me do my thing! ”

“Think…”

“Only three weeks ago someone asked me if I wanted to work for them but my allegiances were still with the Dedes then. I worked so hard when we were at the burrow and everybody was concerned about you. Snippedy was ready to leave then, but I spoke with an angel’s tongue to convince him we are all in it together. I just should have let it slide. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Devil!” I exclaimed and stamped my foot on the ground to get his attention. He looked at me stunned and I could finally get a word in. “I beg you, please don’t make any rash decisions. You obviously had a bad night.”

“I have indeed, but I have made up my mind.” He handed me an envelope. It said “Letter of Resignation” in big letters on the outside.

He was obviously not in the mood to listen today, so I took it but said: “Let’s talk about it on Monday.”

Sure enough… my unrelated image was a talking point last night. It sounded like there is heaps of stuff going on in the Dede world that I could report on. No need to digress. While they were away in the burrow they didn’t mind me keeping everything going by publishing other images. After all, they had deserted me. But now they are back and they want me to pay full attention to them.

“What are you thinking?” Devil asked me, hands on hips. “Can you tell me the name of the blog again? Or shall I spell it out to you?”

“Come on” Foxy Lady interrupted him. “It was interesting to hear about some history. After all, this is where we come from, isn’t it?” A murmur went through the room. Everybody was surprised she stood up to Devil. He calls himself the spokesperson for the Dedes, but it slowly dawned on me that he is just more vocal about his wishes and opinions than the others. He doesn’t necessarily represent everybody else’s view. Obviously Foxy Lady had finally had enough of his bullying tactics.

“Okay, then…” Devil said self-confidently. “Lets have a show of hands: who thinks it was out of line?”

“No, no. no!” Foxy Lady said before anybody could raise their hands. No one was in a hurry anyway. “You can’t ask for a show of hands! Not when you are in the room. It has to be a secret ballot.”

It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Only Devil was breathing fast and shallow and his face turned a smidgen redder. Foxy Lady outwardly looked very relaxed. Only the pitch of her voice gave away that she was well out of her comfort zone. Good old Mouse came to the rescue by asking innocently: “Do we still have the old box with the slit in the top? Has anybody seen it since the move? And we need some paper.” She looked at me for help.

“I don’t know where the box is, but I can make a new one” I said and got up. “Maybe our readers have an opinion about this as well!”

The Dedes might complain about the lack of consultation, but I decided to have one day per week where I put up images unrelated to the Dedes and I am starting today. (Nothing in my life is entirely unrelated to the Dedes, or to put it another way, the Dedes are very much part of my life.) If Devil was here he would tell me off now for waffling, so I will leave it at this.

Anyway, the image I have put up today is from a photo series called “worst friend ever.” For this series, I photographed mementoes of people who once were dear to me, but I have long lost touch with. I have a lot of these (mementoes and people I have lost touch with). The title of the series is of course a reference to me, not the friends I’ve lost touch with.

This little glass penguin is shown larger than it is in reality. It is in fact only about 1 centimetre tall, but it is larger than life. It was given to me by one of my dearest friends when I was in my early twenties. He brought it back from his first trip to Italy. It was an extremely significant trip for him, as it was the first time he was allowed to leave the country after he was realeased from prison. I can assure you this precious one centimeter high piece of glass carries an entire book inside.